


In Tempore

by timeheist



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeheist/pseuds/timeheist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had to hand it to her; River had been able to read Gallifreyan script alarmingly quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Tempore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lonewytch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonewytch/gifts).



> _In tempore_ is Latin for 'in time'.

“If you’re so clever, teach yourself!”

It was simple enough. Like roentgen bricks. The Doctor had learned how to write his name in Gallifreyan script within a matter of minutes and within a matter of days he was writing all his schoolwork in circles and lines (pleased as punch until the not-then-Master had pointed out his e’s were upside down, but that was beside the point). River on the hand couldn’t even grasp the simple instruction ‘let’s start with drawing circles’ without trying to grasp other things and distract the Doctor from the fact that her e’s were not upside down, but completely non-existent. He’d almost think she wasn’t even trying at all, if it wasn’t for the fact that she had asked him to teach her how to read and write Gallifreyan script and not the other way around. Usually when River asked for something, she made use of every resource in her power to make sure that she got it.

The Doctor was at the point of throwing in the hat, and the handbook to boot. If he didn’t happen to have a sanctity of sorts when it came to hats and, in fact, there was an actual handbook to throw in at all. River sighed in turn, dropping her quill to the TARDIS console and resting her slim, not-too-soft hands on top of the book she had been leaning her paper on, in her lap, to do her work. Her legs were in the Doctor’s lap and after a lot of wriggling, they’d managed to find a way to make the captain’s seat comfortable enough for too people without being too comfortable to get anything done. They would have used the bed, or the library, but one would have led to being far too noisy, and one was far too close to Amy and Rory’s room and thus far too… delicate, right now. There was a reason they were finding less carnal and more time-consuming distractions, and had been for the last week and a half.

“If you weren’t the only teacher, Sweetie, maybe I would!”

He had to hand it to her; River had been able to read Gallifreyan script alarmingly quickly. She’d picked up the words written on the Doctor’s cradle – though that might have been her instincts, not her education – and every time the Doctor drew a word – there were hundreds of sheet of paper littering the floor by now – she could more or less read it out loud, albeit in twenty-first-century-English-with-a-British-accent. That was something else they’d have to work on. But every time she tried to copy the word her circle was more of an oval, or her lines curved in at the wrong angle, or she dotted a solid dot where she should have circled a smaller one. And the Doctor was beginning to lose his patience.

“Let’s call it a nigh-“

“No.” The Doctor put on his authoritative voice, pouting slightly, and River knew exactly when not to push him. “You’ll get the hang of this. You’re a – you’re a Pond,” He barely flinched, but River still put her hand on his knee, or what of it wasn’t covered by hers, and stroked gently and slowly, “And Ponds are doing people, not talking people.”

“Writing isn’t really a doing thing.”

“Well, you asked for it.”

“Yes Sweetie…”

The Doctor took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, shuffling the papers and book out of River’s hand and clumsily pushing the sleek, red quill – a gift from an old friend with a thing for red feathers – back into her fingers. River raised an eyebrow, hand wrapping around the carved silver that encased the feather and the Doctor half picked her up to settle her properly in his lap and wrap his arms around the back of her torso. He took hold of her wrist with little ceremony, and rolled up his sleeve with his other hand before resting it against her midriff.

“How about this?”

“It’s one of your more awkward positions for doing-“

“I’ll guide your hand!” The Doctor spluttered, and River decided not to tell him how that statement could have been taken as well. “We can practice a little more without destroying an entire rainforest just so Professor River Song can be the only living practitioner of Gallifreyan script in the Boeshane Peninsula.” River chuckled. The Doctor nodded at one of the many pieces of Gallifreyan written in the stark, still unfamiliar white of his new console. “What does that say?”

“ _In tempore_.”

“Close enough. Now, you write it,” The Doctor gripped River’s wrist a little tighter, did his best to ignore the little wriggle in his lap telling him just how much she liked that, and closed his eyes, deep in thought and memory. River rested her head back against his, and started to quietly, reassuringly, hum. “Like this…”


End file.
